


Wild Jones and the Temple of Doom

by MarleyAndMe12



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Indiana Jones - Freeform, Temples, That’s it for now more on the way, The w boys in blue, This is my first work, Warriors is annoyed by the fact Wind looks like 5 different races, Warriors is better than Willie though, Wemple of woom, Wild doesn’t like cities, Wild is badass, Wind is Chinese bite me, also put the Chinese into google translate it’s simple, bullwhip, but don’t it will hurt, follows the Indiana Jones movie scenes, i hope I can add stuff after, i love her but, im awkward, its Indiana Jones after all, kinda bloody?, temple of doom, this is their time, with a few things added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarleyAndMe12/pseuds/MarleyAndMe12
Summary: Link Henry Jones Jr, aka “Wild” Jones. Adventurer. Famous archaeologist. After an attempt to acquire a treasure in Shanghai goes wrong, Wild is thrust into a new adventure full of twists and turns(and crazy sacrificial cults) to get back five precious stones, one of which was stolen from a nearby village. Joined by the famous American singer Link Scott(aka “Warriors) and a small ten year old bodyguard named Wind Roundshort, Wild will face off against the yiga clan in what may be his most dangerous adventure yet.This is basically Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, but with LU characters. The stories will be in chronological order(temple of doom, the raiders of the lost ark, etc) because I hope to make this a series. First story, one of many Aus! I hope it’s satisfactory, and thank you for reading!





	1. Diamond Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> It is recommended to watch the movie or scenes beforehand, as they animate what I cannot out into words. The clothes they wear are the same, just a few differences like color and pattern and such. Thank you!

Chapter one:

Diamond dreams

Link was goddess damn amazing at singing, and he very well knew it. He could hit high sopranos and low tenors. He could sing in a multitude of different languages, from the Chinese he was singing now to the violent language of Germany. He had a silky smooth voice that bonded with the ocean blue of his favorite lucky scarf. He remembered when his little sister Linkle had first given him that scarf, had started him on his career. He had been about twelve, shy and terrified of going on stage for the solo he would sing.

“I can’t do it!” He cried, sobbing behind the big red curtain as way better singers finished their ensembles. No matter what anyone said to him, his friends, his music teacher, his parents, none of them could get Link up on that stage. Until his little sister came along, giant compass the size of her head weighing on her neck, and carrying the most beautiful piece of fabric he had ever seen. “I knit it myself!” She had declared proudly. “It has love woven into the seams! As long as you wear it, you won’t be scared.” Wearing the scarf felt so much different. Maybe it was the belief that it truly was good luck, or the fact that his little sister spent almost three months on it, but Link had felt a surge of confidence that day, confidence enough to get him on stage and sing his soul out. That was the performance that helped him realize his dream of singing.

And this was the scarf that gave him the confidence to sing now, at the Lattè, with a large group of Chinese girls who smiled just by being near him. His warriors, there to help him win any musical battle he fought. Here in China they were simply soldiers, but back home in America he often liked to sing wavering duets with Zelda, high tittering indies with Lana, or even soulful ballads with his coach, Impa. Those were his comrades. His partners. Helping him move up in the ranks until he finally could make the best of the best. His warriors, just like the name of their band. And while he had made a good friend in Chinese business owner Mr. Turner Coat, Turner wasn’t his girls. He couldn’t wait to get back to America with the fruits of his labors, souvenirs and a large rack of cash. 

_ “Anything goes~” _he finished, winking at a doe eyed girl in the audience. She squealed and held her hand to her forehead, before falling over in a dead faint. And what with everyone standing up to clap for Link’s performance, no one saw her plight. He smiled and pulled out a silk handkerchief to dab along his forehead. Dancing worked up a terrible sweat.

Backstage everyone praised the amazing work he did, with pats on the back and kisses on the cheek. He smiled at every one of them, congratulating a job well done. In a few minutes the Chinese girls would put on a dancing performance of their own, and Link wished them luck and promised to watch from the audience. And while yes, he would enjoy the show, watching his soldiers wasn’t the main priority. He had to find Turner, and request a few things, like money for a well done job and food for a hungry singer. Slipping past the costumes, he made his way to Turner’s table.

It was there Link found the strangest looking man he’d ever seen. He didn’t want to say ugly, for he was anything but. His golden hair was tied into a bun at the top of his head, exposing the hundreds of jagged pink scars that spiderwebbed over his body. He wore a simple light blue suit with a silent princess in the breast pocket, and was sitting across from Turner, wearing an expression set in stone. And while this was startling enough, the most curious thing about the man was most likely his electric blue eyes, a little lighter than Link’s scarf.

One of Turner’s friends stood up quickly, barking angry Chinese and Link saw that it was a situation he could diffuse. Jogging up behind Turner, he grabbed his friends shoulder and turned to face him. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Link smiled, heart dancing in victory as the Chinese man sat down. Turner sucked in a breath. “This is Link Scott.” He muttered, gesturing to Link as he sat down beside the scarred man. “This is Link Jones, famous archaeologist.” Link balked. Two people with the same name? How would they deal with that? “I prefer to go by Wild.” The other Link muttered, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the goddesses for nicknames. He could see where Wild got his. 

“Hm. I always thought of archaeologists as funny little men running around looking for their mommies.” Wild glared at him. “They’re mummies.” He mumbled. “Doctor Jones has found Nurhachi for me, and he’s going to deliver him...” a sharp click was heard from behind the flowers. “...now.” Link looked at Turner confused. 

“Say, who is this NurhaaAACHIII?!?!” Link shrieked as Wild simultaneously grabbed both his arm and a two pronged knife from a nearby serving cart, and pressed it into his side. He sucked in a breath, mind reeling in shock. “Put the gun away sonny.” The scarred man’s voice was low and dangerous, underlying tone whispering _ or else _ like a secret message hidden in a poem. Turner’s son lowered his bandaged hand away from the flowers, and Link realized that the click he had heard was the safety of a gun flipped to off. Wild smiled. “I suggest you give me what I want…” he pressed the knife into Link’s side, causing the singer to gasp in pain. “...or anything goes.” 

Turner hesitated. Hesitated, before pulling a small brown pouch from his jacket and placing it on the moving table, spinning it over to the pair. “Open it.” Wild ordered, and with shaky hands Link picked up the pouch and dumped it into his hands, holding the old yellow coins up for the archaeologist’s eyes. He scoffed. “The diamond, Turner.” Link placed the coins and pouch back on the roller. “The deal was for the diamond.” Turner rolled the table back to his side, taking out a small piece of tissue paper wrapped around what he could only assume was the diamond. He placed it alongside a wine glass filled with amber liquid, and spun it back over to their side.

Link picked the paper up and unwrapped it. “Oh, Turner.” He breathed. The jewel sparkled a brilliant white even in the low light of the _ Lattè _. It was enough to buy him all of the dreams he had. Link wasn’t able to keep it for long, however. Letting out a loud yelp as Wild dug the blade into his side, the diamond was snatched from his palm. Already Link was missing it’s smooth coolness in his warm hand. Wild smirked and raised the glass to his lips. “To your good health.” Link stood up, butt knocking the drink away from the archaeologist’s scarred lips. “Turner, he put two holes in my suit from Paris!” He cried, exposing his side for his friend to see. “Sit down!” The shadowy man snapped. Link huffed and scooted away from Wild. 

“Now, you give me Nurhachi.” Turner has composed himself, shooting a cold glance at Link. “Who is this Nurhachi anyway?” Link asked as Wild snapped his fingers and a rito waiter with white feathers and electric green eyes carried a tray with a small green bottle on it. “Here he is.” Wild placed the bottle on the roller and spun it past Link, all the way to Turner. “This Nurhachi is an awfully small guy.” Link said. Turner was all smiles as he picked the bottle up, holding it so the men leaning in could see. “Inside are the remains of Nurhachi, the first emperor of the Manchu dynasty!” Wild lifted his glass and drank deeply. “Welcome home, old boy.” He said.

Three pairs of eyes stared at the archaeologist, who looked back in confusion. Then they began to chuckle, smiles growing in volume and chests heaving higher. “And now, you give me the diamond.” Turner smirked. Wild simply sighed, knocking his glass down on the table. Link sighed too, but for a different reason. Watching the exchange was boring, and he decided to pull a small mirror out of his pocket to check where stupid Wild had smudged his makeup. Wild scratched the inside of his suit collar and gave the waiter a look. “Are you trying to develop a sense of humor, or am I going deaf?” The three men only laughed harder, Turner reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a corked vial of viridian liquid.

“What’s that?” Link asked, snapping his mirror shut. “Antidote.” Turner responded, sending his comrades into another fit of laughter. “To what?” Link looked over to see the pale, horrified face of Wild Jones, who had begun to clutch at his abdomen. “The poison you just drank, Doctor Jones.” Turner said it in a tone one would take when talking to a coworker, or a friend you pass on the street. Wild swirled the drink around with his finger, before coming to a resolution and passing the diamond back to Turner. 

Not a moment after the jewel was in Turner’s hands did Wild grab his arm again, pressing the knife into his side twice as hard. “Turner!” Link shouted, annoyed that the man would jeopardize his life a second time. “Keep the singer, I find another!” Turner laughed as Link’s body went into shock. His friend. His only friend in China. Would just give him up to some monstrous archaeologist. And that’s when The rito waiter picked up Wild’s drink, exposing the hidden gun he had held the whole time. Turner and his friends went sheet white, laughter and fun erased like it had never been there. 

“Good service you got here.” Wild smirked. “T-that’s not a _ waiter. _” Link gasped at the rito’s stony expression. “Thank you, captain obvious.” Wild rolled his brilliant blue eyes once more. “Teba’s an old friend. Games not over, Turner.” He said, holding out his hand. “Antidote. Now!” 

_ Pop! _A sound with the likeness of a gunshot rang throughout the left side of the room. A smiling man had torn the cork off a champagne bottle, pouring a fizzy glass for the lady next to him. All around the room, more pops sounded as alcohol was poured and laughs were shared. Teba looked down at the glass on his tray, which had someone shattered. Then, like a jack in the box delayed for too long, a bright red rose began to blossom from the rito’s chest. The bird looked down at his wound, then up at the snake like man who fired it. “Wildy…” he gasped as Wild leapt into action, catching the man and laying him in his arms. “Don’t worry Teba, I’ll get you out of here.” For the ten minutes Link had known him, Jones had always seemed so stoic, yet now, with his friend bleeding out onto the table, his voice shook with barely restrained tears. “Not this time, Wildy.” Teba smiled as Wild began pressing napkins over the wound. “I’ve gone on many adventures with you, but into the great unknown mystery…” Teba’s green eyes held nothing but love for the man holding him. “...I go first, Wildy.” And with that, the rito faded away.

“Don’t be sad, Doctor Jones.” Turner said. “Soon you will be joining him.” Wild stood up at the same time as Link did, stumbling backwards as the poison worked it’s job. “Too much to drink, Doctor Jones?” Turner’s son laughed hysterically, and was soon joined by the snake like man who shot Teba. Wild stumbled into a cart with giant roasting shish kebabs, hands gripping both sides tightly to try and steady himself. The men kept laughing and laughing. They were still laughing when Wild picked up one of the flaming metal sticks. Still laughing as it soared through the air. 

They stopped when it speared the snake eyed man through the heart.

He cried out in pain, firing his gun not even two inches away from Link, who screamed, jumping away from the blast that nearly killed him. The blast had people look up. The scream had people afraid. And the bloody dead body of the rito was the finishing touch.

All hell broke loose.

People jumped from their chairs, screaming as they frantically searched for the exits. Wild leapt from his spot beside his resting friend, reaching for the antidote that slid off the table. He ended up face to face with Turner. “我向女神发誓，我会杀了你。” Wild growled. “如果你先死怎么办？” Turner shot back. Wild cracked him with a punch straight across the face, slipping over the wooden edge. None of them noticed Link as he picked up the diamond from the roller, or how Wild’s feet sent it flying out of his hand into the crowd. He snapped up, eyes frantically searching the floor for the gem. Link could hear the sounds of shattering glass behind him, grunts and moans and the horrible sound of fist meeting face. Just when he would spot it on the floor, someone’s shoe would kick it away. He looked up for a split second to find Jones being wheeled away on a waiter’s walker, before smashing the people pushing him into the ground. 

Link shook his head. The diamond. He had to find the diamond. Wild had taken to the floor also, searching with even more fever for the antidote that would save his life. A small bottle of blue green liquid slid past a blinding beauty of a jewel. Heart and soul. Dreams and reality. “The antidote.” Wild slurred when they met in the middle. “Where’s the diamond!?” Link cried. Groaning in annoyance and pain, Wild pushed past him, continuing his search for life.

The dancers Link had promised to watch filed out onto the stage, screaming when a seemingly drunk man scarred from head to toe stumbled in front of them. They ran left and right, making it even harder to get his prize. Men dressed in all black rushed onto the scene, forcing Link to duck as they threw spears at Wild. Literal spears. _ I mean, I knew the man studied old stuff, but this is ridiculous. _He thought. Scanning the floor once more, Link’s eyes landed on the glittering white jewel. He dropped to his knees, crawling towards his treasure, but ended up tripping a waiter, who spilt glittering white ice cubes on the floor.

“No!” Link cried. He began picking up each cube, feeling the water melt in his hands, before he stopped. In front of him was a small vial of blue green liquid, the antidote Wild was searching so frantically for. Link didn’t know why he took it. He had no idea why he picked it up and held it high for all to see, or why bright letters exclaiming that he had obtained the antidote flashed before his eyes. He turned to see Wild’s angry face across the room. “Stay there!” He shouted. Link ignored him, choosing instead to slip the vial into the folds of his scarf. Balloons began to rain from the ceiling, something that was supposed to occur after the dancers finished their cartography. 

Link ran to the other side of the room, watching as Wild fought off swarms of men with his bare fists. He twisted and turned, dodged and punched, ducked and countered. It was truly a mesmerizing sight, until Turner’s son bolted down the stairs screeching in Chinese, and pointed a huge gun straight at Wild. 

The man ducked behind the giant gong on the wall just as Turner’s son opened fire, laughing with an insane smile. _ Ping! Ping! Ping! _The bullets bounced off the giant steel instrument, and Wild decided to make a break for it, grabbing one of the swords from the nearby statues and cutting the gong down. It rolled on a warpath toward the open window, Jones still right behind it, using it as a shield against the bullets. The gong rolled straight towards Link, who froze when Wild grabbed him and began dragging him toward the stained glass. No. He couldn’t possibly be thinking-

“Come on, let's go!” Wild barked as they leapt at the glass. “I DON’T WANNA DIEEEEEEEE!!!!” Link wailed as the glass shattered upon impact. They landed on a cloth draped over a balcony, then another, and another, until finally they were hanging right above the street. “Who the hell are you?!” Link shouted at Wild, who _ tched _and grabbed his arm, forcing them both to let go of the awning. Link screamed again as they twisted and landed in the back of a car, ripping right through the roof. 

The driver’s seat was seemingly empty until a small blue and white baseball cap showed with the New York Giants logo. Then a mop of sunny blond hair, and finally, a small round face. The dark eyed boy stared at the two, before grinning. “Wow, holy smoke! Crash landing!” He laughed with a heavy Chinese accent. As Link gravely tried to fix his tangled hair, Wild panted in the behind the kid and gave him a desperate look. “Wind Roundshort, step on it.” Wind redisplayed his gap toothed smile and turned his baseball cap backwards. “Okeydokey Doctor Jones, hold onto your potatoes!”

“For the love of the goddesses, there’s a kid driving the car!” Link cried, grabbing the handle when the vehicle accelerated forward with an unsafe speed. They lurched around a corner and opened onto a dim street, lit only by the red electric lanterns. Wind punched the horn so hard Link was surprised the airbag hadn’t inflated simply because of the attack. They drove straight into a string of lanterns, which promptly fell on the car and attached to the bumper. 

“Wow!” Wind exclaimed, ducking when Link screamed and the lanterns exploded in a shower of sparks. “Wow.” Link glanced behind them to see a string of fire hanging from the trunk, lighting up baskets and crates of fruit as it went along. He groaned when Wild grabbed his shoulders and shook, holding his arms behind his back and yelling, “where’s the antidote!” 

“Listen, I know you want an autograph but I just met you and-“ he gasped as Wild reached into his scarf. “Stop! This is my scarf! No one touches it but me! STOP!” Link jolted and squirmed, trying to escape the archaeologist’s grip. “Hey, Doctor Jones, no time for autographs, we got company!” The sharp _ crack _of a gunshot rang out as Wild obtained his prize and shoved him away. Uncorking the small bottle, Wild nearly shoved the whole thing down his throat as desperation began to knot in his stomach. “Oh, I hope you choke.” Link scowled at the man. 

The car jerked around another corner as more gunshots followed them, cracking and popping and banging. “No shooting!” Link cried, covering his ears as Wild punched a hole out the back of the glass and opened fire on the railing black Jeep. “避让！ 避让！” Wind shouted at a biker pulling a small carriage in front of them. When they didn’t move, Wind shrugged and said, “Okay, you ask for it!” Before stomping his blocked feet down on the gas. The hood of the vehicle caught the carriage unawares, and the biker screamed as he was thrown into the air. 

_ Bang! _A sniper in the black car cried out one last time before going still. The Jeep darted left, right, left, right, then left straight into a crate of green onions. Wild pulled his hand back into the car as Wind slammed on the brakes, sending the bikers careening into a little shopping stall full of vegetables. He kicked the car back into high gear and turned left, laughing like a kid on a carnival ride. “This is fun!” He exclaimed, turning the wheel again and slamming into a crate of fruit. 

Wild turned around in his seat and handed the pistol to Link. “Here hold this.” He growled, searching the cup holders for something. Link shrieked when the hot metal burned his hand, jumping it around like a hot potato before dropping it out of the window. He stared after the disappearing weapon, jolting up when he heard the archaeologist’s shout. “Where’s my gun? _ Where’s my gun?!” _ Link fixed him with a murderous glare. “I burnt my fingers and I cracked a nail!” He cried.

They raced right into an airport, Wind slamming on the brakes once they hit a pile of suitcases. Unbuckling his belt, the boy leapt out of the seat and ran towards the truck, not stopping to untie the two blocks of wood from his sneakers. Wild unbuckled as well, grabbed Link by the arm and dragged him towards a waiting craft. “Ah, hello Doctor Jones, my name is Smith Black, I spoke with your assistant. I managed to secure three seats, apologies for the slight inconvenience, as you will be riding with a cargo of live poultry.” Wind dashed ahead, fixing his hat on his head as he thumped up the steps with Wild’s trunk.

“IS HE SERIOUS?!” Link screamed upon glimpsing the inside of the feathered cabin. “Sir, it’s the best I could do on such short notice...Hylia, aren’t you the famous American singer, Link Scott?” Behind the fence Link saw the black car stop, men piling out to meet them. “Wait, _ two _Link? There can’t be two!” Wind exclaimed from the plane’s doorway. Wild turned and shoved Link up the stars into Wind’s waiting arms. “Um...how about Warriors then? I’ll take the name of my band.” He smiled fondly at the thought of his girl friends, wishing that if he had to be in this horrible place, it would be a million times better with one of Zelda’s warm smiles. 

Then Wind smiled. No where near the same, but the smile of a child was close enough. Zelda’s smiles spoke of sugary sweet reassurance, while Wind’s was of belief and unwavering loyalty for his boss. It it didn’t help that the only similar thing between the two was the sunny blond hair. Zelda’s hair fit perfectly with her creamy skin and sky blue eyes, while Wind’s freckled tan and blond curls seemed out of place with the Chinese build. It was like he was still trying to decide what race he wanted to be. “Don’t worry, Mr Warrior, everything going to be okay. Doctor Jones won’t let anything happen!” the boy exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah, time for naming is later, we gotta move!” Wild shouted, coming up the steps behind them to shove Warriors fully into the plane. And as he turned to grab the door handle, he couldn’t resist shouting one last time. “So long, Turner Coat!” He laughed. “Better luck next time!” And with that, Wild slammed the door shut, allowing the men outside to get a good look at the giant letters reading TURNER COAT. Turner chuckled. “Well played, Doctor Jones.” He signalled to the men in the cockpit, who gave a quick thumbs up. “Well played indeed…”


	2. A Snowy Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plane to America receives an unwelcome surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh golden goddesses, here it is. The next chapter for Wild Jones. Yayyyy.

Chapter two:

A Snowy Crash

The plane soared off into the vibrant greens, reds, and yellows of the sunset, breaching the beautiful horizon. Inside the plane, however, was not so beautiful. Feathers gently shifted around on the bottom of the craft, as chickens clucked and bobbed their heads to an unheard rhythm. Filthy dirty masses of bird poop lined the metal floor, squishing and squelching when stepped on. It almost made Warriors want to cry. He sat down on a small seat, wallowing in self pity, when Wild walked out of the bathroom dressed in new garb. 

He wore a brown leather jacket over a blue safari shirt, that had the design pattern of a sword stabbing down from the neck. Faded beige khaki pants held pockets full of bulging odds and ends, and he had tied a whip onto his left side, while the holster on his right held a new black revolver. On his head sat a dusty brown wide brimmed fedora, and his undone hair floated around his shoulders. He dragged a leather backpack over to the seat across from Warriors and sat down, grabbing his whip from his side.

“What are you supposed to be, a lion tamer?” Warriors snapped at Wild, glaring royal blue eyes fixed on an annoyed pair of azures. “I’m allowing you to tag along,” Wild grunted, reclining against the window. “So why don’t you give your mouth a rest, prettyboy?” Warriors scoffed and grabbed Wild’s exposed blue suit jacket from the pack, wrapping it around himself and smelling the silent princess in the lapel. 

“What do you mean,  _ tag along.”  _ Warriors stood, glaring down at the archaeologist. “You kidnapped me! You were such a big fan you decided to take me from my happy working place in Shanghai, and even now you can’t take your eyes off me!” Wild snorted, waving the singer off with a dirty hand. “Oh yeah?” He slid his hat down his eyes, leaning against a stack of boxes and cages.

Warriors wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Why him? Why couldn’t it be some other singer that got caught up with a crazed archaeologist and his racially confusing kid? “Pardon Mr.” Wind said, pushing past him and squeezing himself behind Wild. Grabbing a portion of hair and a brush, he set to work braiding. “Doctor Jones likes his hair up, “less annoying”, he say.” Warriors sat back down in his seat, watching the twists and turns of Wind’s fingers as he braided. And while he never thought he could rest on a plane surrounded by clucking hens watching a ten year old weave his kidnapper’s hair, Warriors soon began to drift off to sleep.

___________________________________________________________________________

Hours upon hours and miles upon miles later, two men were whispering in the cockpit. The right one pushed the grey curtain aside, glancing at a slumbering curled up Link Scott. The left one pulled his side away too, watching as Doctor Link Jones shifted his arm, which was draped protectively over the kid leaning against his legs. He looked back at his companion and nodded. The man grabbed the lever labeled FUEL DUMP and pulled, causing pints of gas keeping the aircraft flying to leak out by the second. 

They stood, weaving their legs over the tangle of legs and body, creeping toward the exit door in the back. The first man pushed it open, causing air to rush in like a leaf blower, sending snow-like flurries of feathers dancing through the plane. Scott groaned, rubbing his eyes groggily. The first man shoved his partner out the craft, before waving a final goodbye to the doomed passengers and joining him.

_______________________________________

Warriors groaned, rubbing sand from his tired eyes. The roaring sound of rushing air caught his attention, and coughing on a few feathers, he stumbled over to the cockpit for a pilot to close the door. Shoving the grey curtain aside, he looked around the pilot room in horror, searching for the now missing pilots that weren't flying the plane. “Oh no.” He whispered, glancing at the snowy mountains the craft’s nose was angled into. 

“Oh no, oh mister!” He turned around to face Wild, grabbing the sides of his jacket and shaking. “Mister! Mister Wild please wake up-“ Warriors jumped when Wind’s small face peeked up from between his arms. “You call him Doctor Jones, doll!” He snapped. “Okay, Doctor Jones!” Warriors pushed the boy aside, grabbing Wild’s hat from his head and slapping it on the sides of his face. “Doctor Jones, please please wake up!” 

Wild shifted, groggily reaching a hand up to stop the abuse to his face. “Are we there already? Oh, good...” He wiped the sand from his eyes. “No!” Warriors cried, catching a glimpse of Wind running toward the back of the craft before dragging the sleepy archaeologist toward the empty cockpit. Wild’s eyes widened. “No one's flying the plane!” The singer hissed.

Wild glanced toward the back, and only saw Wind searching the walls for something. He cursed and took the pilot’s seat, hands on the wheel. “Do you know how to fly?” Warriors asked with uncertainty etched into his voice. “No. Do you?” Wild smiled hopefully, focusing his attention on the many dials and dashes scattered across the flight board. “Oh, my Hylia.” Warriors whispered, hand over his heart. “Oh my goddesses. I’m going to faint.” He stumbled into the cockpit’s wall, hanging on for dear life.

“It can’t be that hard.” Wild said, tapping each spinner with his finger. “Altimeter, yes. Air speed, yes. Fuel…” He trailed off, blinking a few times when the nonworking light didn’t match the low diameter. He tapped at it furiously. “FUEL!!!” The light blinked red, and just then Wild and Warriors turned to see the left engine sputter and die. A few moments later, the right one followed suit. The altitude meter dropped like a stone.

They were crashing.

“I think we’ve got a big problem.” Wild said gravely, standing up from the seat. “Doctor Jones!” Wind called, running up the cabin. “Windy?!” Wild yelled, pushing past Warriors to get to his mini bodyguard. “Doctor Jones!” The boy crossed his arms in emphasis,eyes wide and alarmed. “No more parachutes!” Wild glanced back toward the rocks fixing to be someone’s death.

“Windy!” Wild barked, running toward the back of the cabin, leaving Warriors to stare at their impending doom. “Come on, give me a hand! Move the box!” The archaeologist’s loud voice barely reached Warrior’s ears as blood roared through them, pumping his adrenaline into overdrive. “What’s that? Doctor Jones, you crazy!” The plane’s landing wheel clipped the top of the mountain, sending the aircraft spinning as Wild slammed something down on a pile of cages. “Windy! Get our stuff!” 

Warriors made his way to the back of the cabin, staring at the yellow PVC reading EMERGENCY. “A boat? We’re not sinking, we’re crashing!!” He bit down on his hand to keep from screaming. “Grab on Windy! Grab on!” Wild shouted, facing the boat toward the open door and holding his hands out for his bodyguard. Wind pushed past Warriors, green bag slung over his shoulder, and hugged the archaeologist from behind. Warriors did the same, grip only growing tighter when Wind shrieked, “Mister! I can’t breathe!” Wild pulled the inflation rope and jumped out the window.

Warriors  _ screamed. _

The frigid mountain air rushed past, cooling his cheeks and whipping his hair into a frenzied mess of tangled golden curls. Miles and miles of blue sky spread like a quilt around them, clouds growing further and further as they descended. The raft spun round and round and round, becoming more puffy with every second.  _ I’m going to die _ . He realized with a start.  _ All because of some damn archaeologist and his racially confusing kid! _

The fully inflated boat bounced on the ground, sending it’s occupants tumbling in the air like a salad, before beginning to slide downhill. Behind them, a large explosion shook the earth where the plane had crashed. The raft weaved through trees and around rocks, jolting and jerking as it gained speed. Pines acted as ramps and stones acted as bumps, and the snow became a freezing blanket. “Slow it down!” Wind cried, hand holding onto his hat for dear life. They skidded onto rocky terrain.

Wild turned to smile at his companions. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was-” Turning back to the front, he gave a cry of fear and threw a protective arm over Wind. Warriors glanced ahead, and saw only air as they flew over a cliff.

_ Splash!  _ The boat slapped into the watery rapids below, tossing and shaking the raft like a fish in a bag. Water lurched over the side, swallowing Warriors in a huge wave. He choked, spitting the water out just as fast as it came up. Wild stuck his hand into the river, one hand desperately hanging onto his fedora, the other trying to steer the raft toward shore and away from the rocks. “I hate water!” Warriors wailed. “And I hate being wet! And I hate  _ you!! _ ” 

Wild leveled him with a nasty glare. “Good!” He grunted, palm slamming against a jagged stone. Soon the the angry waves slowed to a calm current, and the archaeologist draped himself over the side of the boat with a groan. Wind did the same, positioning and repositioning his body in such a way that he looked like a miniature Jones. It almost sent Warriors into hysterics.

“Doctor Jones?” Wind coughed, eyes slowly falling shut. “I’m alright, Windy. You okay?” The man asked, concern for the boy’s well being obvious to everyone in the surrounding ten miles. He didn’t respond, choosing instead to recline back in the boat and pull his hat over his eyes, just like Wild did back on the plane. Warriors glared at them. “Is anyone going to ask if I’m okay?” He growled, crossing his arms. Wild snorted. “You’re talking aren’t you?” He laughed.

The trees were unlike any Warriors had ever seen, bright green with tangled vines trapping the trunks in tight bindings. The air was thick and humid, heat seeping into his thankful bones as cicadas buzzed and jumped.

Warriors scowled. “Oh, where are we anyway?” He whined, leaning back against Wind’s legs. The boy let out a small  _ oof  _ and opened one eye. Wild looked up as the boat glided to a stop. “India.” He answered simply, pressing his hands together in prayer. Wind looked up from Wild’s legs, letting out a small gasp as he scrambled back into the crook of his boss’s arm. Warriors slowly turned around, sucking a breath in through his nose.

On the bank of the river, surrounded by moss, dirt, trees, and rocks, was an old tribal woman. Her hair was white and she wore a drawn eye on her head, red paint filling the grooves on her wrinkled face. Tattered blue and white clothes hung from her small frail body, and dirt coated her skin. Looking down at the travelers, she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s the second chapter! I’m excited to get to my own stuff, as I hope to add a little more to each scene, as well as make a few of my own. I hope people are enjoying this so far, at least as much as I've been writing it. I feel this one was a little short, so I’m going to push it next chapter. Thank you for reading!


	3. The Hearthbreaking Kakariko Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old woman met at the banks of the river leads them to her village, where the travelers find a heartbreaking sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I know that Malanya is the horse god, but I couldn’t use hylia without changing something major. I hope our horse headed friend is okay. Plz tell me if you’re enjoying it so far!

Chapter three:

The Heartbreaking Kakariko Village

The old woman led them through the forest, weaving through thick green trees. They trekked for hours, only stopping once, and that was for a simple bathroom break. Wind tried not to be hungry. He knew, based on the one adventure he’d already had with Wild, that they might have to go days without food, living off of what precious little water they had. 

They crossed the forest threshold into rocky terrain, filled with brown hills and dead bushes everywhere he looked. The overcast sky was cloudy, but not rainy. Their grey expanse stretched over the land like a blanket, allowing the sun’s little warmth to beat down, yet not sharing it’s rays.

“මෙහි. Welcome to Kakariko.” The woman said, gesturing to a dip in the hills below. A village sat nestled between two slopes, grass cut away and smoke curling into the air. The houses were simple squares, with no glass in their windows, and no people milling about. The place looked deserted. Wild gave him a little push, and he started down the hill.

The village wasn’t in fact empty. As soon as the travelers set foot within the dusty compounds life swarmed out, all thin and dirty and _ desperate. _There was a hungry, hopeless look in their eyes, hollow and haunting. A woman with the same painted red eye on her forehead rushed out of a cracked mud house, speaking frantically. “ඔවුන් රාත්රියේ පැමිණියා. මිනිස්සු පිට්ටනියේ හිටියා, ඔවුන් එළියේ ගින්න නවත්වන්න හදනවා, ඊට පස්සේ ඔවුන් ආවා, අපිට එයාලව නවත්වන්න බැහැ, නෑ අපිට බැහැ-” Another woman came up, pushing past to get to the archaeologist. “අපට උදව් කරන්න, කරුණාකර අපට උදව් කරන්න.” She wailed, brushing her hands down Wild before putting them up to the sky in a tent formation.

Their arrival had triggered something, Wind realized. All around them people who looked as if a single gust could blow them away swarmed, repeating the same empty moans and the brushing-and-tented-hand symbol as the rest. Wild paused, Warriors hanging on to his shoulder. He slowly looked around the sea of cloth covered heads, hidden sympathy flooding into his eyes. Wind could see it. It was there the night he first met Wild, there the night they discovered the starved bodies of Teba’s children. _ This is not right. _ The bright blue was cut when his brows lowered. _ This is not right, and I’m going to do something about it. _

He still didn’t know what happened to Teba. Wild had refused to talk on the plane, though granted, it had been a rough day.

Wind broke off from the group, as the strange crowd made him uncomfortable, and he wanted to check for anything sinister. You could never tell with Doctor Jones. An old woman on the cusp of tears stumbled up to him, wrapping her limbs around his shoulders and latching onto his arm, which held the green pack full of Wild’s things. “කරුණාකර අපට උදව් කරන්න, අපට බඩගිනි ය. මගේ පුතා, මගේ දුප්පත් පුතා, ඔහුව අරගෙන ගියා. කරුණාකර අපට උදව් කරන්න.” She sobbed, eyes darting wildly from his face to the people surrounding his boss. “我不明白你,” He spoke softly to her throughout her rambling, pulling his arm away. He wasn’t annoyed with her. He was afraid. “对不起，夫人，我不能帮你，对不起。 请放手，对不起.” 

After putting about five feet of distance between the lady and himself, Wind fixed his oversized green jacket and scanned the village. The water wheel was still, gears rooted into an empty river, and a fine layer of dust coated everything. At the center of the settlement, surrounded by sun dried mud houses and scaffolding made out of sticks, was a large stone wall. A hole was carved out in the middle, beautiful decorations around a dirty cushion. Smoke curled into the air, scratching his throat and burning his eyes. He wrinkled his nose. 

Something about the place felt _ wrong. _The air was heavy with foreboding, dread hanging on the tip of every breath. These people couldn’t afford to take them in. They were dying, and couldn’t afford having people to just sit around, like they were. These people weren’t just being generous.

These people wanted something. And that something was going to cause them a lot of trouble.

“Windy!” The affectionately given nickname caught Wind’s attention, and he raced over to the waving hand of his boss. He quite enjoyed the moniker, as it solidified the fact that you could still have a tag even if your name wasn’t your own. “Wild” And “Wildy” were example enough. 

Pushing past an old man who looked like he could bend over at any moment, he spotted Wild’s hat loosely hanging from his . It was a simple matter of pulling off his New York Giants hat and stuffing it into his beige button up plaid, half hanging open to reveal a four-sizes-too-large blue lobster shirt his grandma had made his dad, and swiping Wild’s to put on his head. The archaeologist startled and looked down at him. “Hey…” he whined, not moving to grab the fedora off of Wind’s head. The boy snickered. “You snooze, you lose, Doctor Jones.” 

The hat was far too big for him. He had about five minutes to ponder this, as they waited for something to happen. Inside the mud brick house of the first old woman, who simply introduced herself as “Paya”, it was both hotter and cooler than outside. There were different spots with different temperatures, and old benches made out of stone. The people of the village lined up outside the building, silent mouths echoing their eager ears. Wild had sat in front of him, closer to the dusty stack of pillows the elder woman sat on. Warriors, who wanted nothing to do with either of them, sat on the other side of the room, directly across from Wild.

Three men, each carrying a plate of food sitting upon a bright green leaf, walked in, not even trying to hide the wide smiles on their faces. They handed each of the travelers their respective clay dish, and loitered around the doorway, waiting to see what forgein people thought of their food. Looking down, Wind examines his lunch.

Well, he had certainly tried more exotic things than this. Half baked yellow rice was pressed neatly against a pile of gray mushy slop. Little black beans drowned in the food, poking out and in and leaving a slimy trail all around. It didn’t look good or sanitary, but Wind understood respect. The people in this village barely ate anything, much less had enough rations for travelers like them. It would be quite rude not to take a single bite. It would be rude not to take all of them. Steeling his nerves, Wind scooped a bite of slop up with his hand and put in his mouth. The flavor was surprisingly meaty. “ඔබට ස්තුතියි. Thank you. Thank you.” Wild said, lifting his plate to the old woman on the pillows.

“I can’t eat this.” Warriors said, taking his plate from one of the men. Wind stared at him. How could anyone be so ignorant and rude. For a moment, Wild had no idea what to do, looking from the plate to the singer, and back again. He leaned forward, whispering in a somber tone. “That’s more food than these people eat in a week. They’re starving.”

Warriors balked, looking at the hungry smiling face of the man who brought the food. “Oh, I’m sorry. You can have-“ The archaeologist cut him off, command rivaling that of a military general’s. “Eat it.” He ordered, staring Warriors down with an evil glare. Warriors slowly turned to face Wild, defiance a burning flame within his royal blue eyes. “I’m not hungry.” He declared proudly. Wild let out a soft breathy chuckle, fake smile broad upon his face. “You’re insulting them, and you’re embarrassing me. Eat it.”

“Eat it.” Wind chided in, nodding along to his boss’s words.

“Eat it.” Elder Paya urged, gesturing a handful of imaginative food toward her mouth.

“කන්න, ඔබට කන්න අවශ්යයි.” The frail man stammered, lightly pushing on Warrior’s arm in an attempt to get him to eat. 

Warriors threw Wild one last glare, before focusing on the food on his plate. His face twisted and scrunched, mouth stretching into a thin line. Picking a large chunk up, he disgustedly shook off a buzzing fly that had landed in his slop. Looking around helplessly one last time, he shoved the food down his throat, mouth warping into a sour fish lips expression. Wild smirked at him, chewing his own small bite and taking his time to enjoy it. 

The thick foreboding feeling still hung heavy in the air as the archaeologist turned toward Paya. Fixing Wild’s hat upon his head, Wind leaned forward and hissed to the man, “Bad news coming. Bad news coming.” Wild ignored him, choosing to focus on the old woman who had fixed him with a stare like no other. “Could you provide us with a guide to take us back to Delhi? I’m a professor you see, and I need to get back to my university.” Wild explained, taking another bite of slop. “Yes. Cado will guide you.” Paya nodded, bowing her head at Wild’s thanks. “ඔබට ස්තුතියි. බොහොම ස්තූතියි.” He stammered, pressing his hands together in a prayer. He had barely opened his mouth when she interrupted him. 

“On the way to Delhi, you will stop at Pankot.”

Wild paused, fingers of gray mush halfway on its journey to his mouth. “Pankot is not on the way to Delhi.” He slowly added, fingers falling back down to the plate. Paya smiled. “You will go to Pankot palace.” Wild furrowed his brow, lost deep in thought as he fixated on a part of the floor next to Paya’s feet. “I thought the palace had been deserted since...the 1850s.” The Elder shook her head. “No. There is new clan master, and again, the palace has the power of the dark light. It is that place…” She swiped a hand across her neck rapidly, holding it outward for a few seconds. “...kill my people!” 

Wild stared at her, a pitying look on his tense face. “What has happened here?” She coughed, bringing her hand up to shelter a small droplet of blood. “The evil start in Pankot, and, like monsoon...spread darkness over land. Over all country.” Wind glanced repeatedly from her to Wild, who had the same sympathy filled look in his eyes. The bright azures shone with unbridled rage and sadness, emotions barely kept in check. He shuffled. _ I told you. _ Wind thought haughtily. _ I told you bad news was coming, but do you listen? No! Of course you don’t listen! _

“The evil?” The archaeologist asked calmly, a fake veil laid over the emotionless tone. Did he not see this coming? He, who had been doing this since he was young? Wind’s street sharpened senses had led him to the correct conclusion that the people of the village wanted something more from them, yet apparently Wild’s adventure sharpened ones couldn’t see the problem. Wasn’t that infuriating.

“What evil?” Wild asked as Wind set his plate down on the table with a clatter. “See?” He whispered while poking the archaeologist’s shoulder. “Bad news. You listen to Wind Roundshort, you live longer!” Wild held a finger up, shushing him until he reluctantly scooched away. Paya raised a hand to the sky, crying out in agony. “They came from palace! And...took shivalinga from our village.” Warriors stared at the woman, an annoyed and confused look on his face. “Took what?” He hissed, the demand for answers an obvious expression. 

“It’s a stone, a sacred stone, from a shrine that protects the village.” Wild answered, attention not straying from the elderly woman on the stack of pillows. “It is why Malanya brought you here.” She laughed, hoarse caterwauls soon bringing the disease of an uncomfortable silence. Wind was startled to see the expression on the Doctor’s face, which had shifted from pity to gut wrenching fear in a matter of minutes. He clenched his hands together, setting the plate down on the table. “We weren’t brought here.” He explained, an unseen force driving the powerful desperation in his voice. “Our plane crashed.”

Warriors smiled at Paya, adding an unhelpful “it crashed.”

“No, no, no.” The Elder woman chortled. “We prayed to Malanya to help us find the stone. It was Malanya who made you fall from sky.” The three travelers exchanged worried glances. Wind already had a sinking feeling about what these people would force them to do. “So, you will go to Pankot palace, find the stone, and bring back to us.” Paya looked as happy as a child on Christmas Day, following the “bring back to us” with echoes, repeating the phrase to make sure it ingrained in their heads. 

Wild stared at her, putting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together, resting his chin on top. Wind, catching the motion, quickly tried to copy it. He stared coolly at the woman, arcing his eyebrows up in an attempt to mimic the expression of his boss. Paya returned the harsh stares with a look of her own, before standing with some difficulty. “Come. I will show you.” And she shuffled out the door.

Wild snatched the hat from Wind’s head, causing the boy to look up with a glare. “Hey…” he whined, reaching into the confines of his shirt and grabbing his cap. “You snooze, you lose, shortstack.” The archaeologist grinned as Warriors hugged and got up. Not wanting to be outdone, he grabbed the whip hanging from Wild’s left, wrapping it up and slinging it over his shoulder with a smirk. Wild scoffed, though Wind could see the faintest hint of a smile. As he moved to grab the bag, his boss’s hand strayed him. “Leave it here for now.” He said. Wind nodded, pushing past Warriors to stand at the doctor’s side.

“Doctor Jones did they make the plane crash to get you here?” Wind asked as soon as they stepped back into the warm humid air of the smoky village. Wild sighed, touching the baseball cap over his head. “No, Windy, it’s just a ghost story.” The words of the archaeologist made him feel a little better, but the convenience of the situation still made Wind’s skin crawl a little. It was just too much, knowing that people had been _ praying _for them to fall, to crash and almost die. They celebrated it. The villagers started trailing them, moving outward and around to surround the stone wall in the center plaza.

They parted way for the three travelers, watching every move with silent impatience. “They took the stone from here.” Paya murmured, pointing to the carved out square hole in the wall. A stack of sandstone slabs sat beneath it, bearing offerings of dried flowers and small gems. Wild walked up to it, looking around each nook and cranny before facing the crowd. “Was the stone very smooth, like a rock from a sacred river? With three lines across it, representing the three levels of the universe?” Paya nodded throughout his questioning, occasionally breaking in with little _ yeahs _ and _ that’s rights _.

The archaeologist sighed. “I’ve seen stones like the one you lost. But why would the clan master take the sacred stone from here?” It was then Wind noticed the red inlay of the shrine, as well as the small beads and trinkets hidden in the corners. In a split second decision he lifted one foot onto the slab stack, stretching his body to reach into the hole and feel around. The small objects _ clinked _in his hands as he analyzed the beads and shells. They might be worth something in america, which is where Wild promised to take him after they made the trade for the diamond. “They says we must bow to their evil god. We says we will not.” Wild grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him away from the little treasures. Fixing the whip on his shoulder, Wind looked to Warriors, who had decided to speak up about his overwhelming confusion.

“Excuse me, I don’t understand how one rock could destroy a whole village?” He asked, eyes widened with concern. “පූජනීය ගල ගත් විට ගමේ ළිං සිඳී ගොස් ගංගා වැලි බවට පත් විය.” Paya said, hands gesturing madly. Wild decided to translate. “She’s saying when the sacred stone was taken, the village wells dried up and the rivers turned to sand. ඒක එතන නැවතුණාද?” He asked, turning around for a few seconds to get a reply. “නැත. භෝග පොළොවෙන් ගිල දැමූ අතර සතුන් බිම දමා දූවිලි බවට පත් විය.” She crossed her hands, continuing the village’s story. “The crops were swallowed by the earth, and the animals laid down and turned to dust.” Wind’s stomach churned, and he wasn’t certain of the cause being the gray bean slop. 

“එක් රාත්රියක කෙත්වල ගින්නක් ඇති විය. පිරිමින් ගින්න මැඩපැවැත්වීමට පිටත්ව ගියහ. ඔවුන් ආපසු එන විට ස්ත්රීන් අන්ධකාරයේ වැතිර සිටියහ.”

“Then one night there was a fire in the fields. the men went out to fight the fire, and when they came back the women were crying in the darkness.” 

“ඔවුන් අපේ දරුවන්ව අරගෙන ගියා.”

Wild stopped, eyes wide in shock. He scanned the hungry, hopeless faces of the crowd, and couldn’t find a single liar. _ What? _ Wind thought with worried impatience. _ What did she say? _He could tell Warriors was wondering the same, eagerness made clear by the step he took forward and the “what?” that escaped his mouth. “ඇත්තටම?” Wild breathed, face falling lower as Paya nodded. He backed away, turning around to stare at the brown wall of a cracked house. “Children.” He said bleakly, sending a chill down Wind’s spine. “She says they stole their children.”

  


___________________________________________________________________________

Wild stood alone against the wooden pole of a house. Darkness had swallowed the land, leaving only the faintest hint of light over the west facing rocks. The Sheikah people had given them their largest house, that held three ratty blankets and rock hard beds. He had sent Wind to sleep(but honestly no doubt the boy was up and lurking about) and Scott, or Warriors as he requested he be called, chose to go to bed early, saying, “When I wake up I will be at my hotel in Shanghai, Turner will still be a good guy, and both you and your little sidekick will never have existed.” 

What an annoyance.

Wild had met politicians with more survival skills than him. Ever since picking him up in Shanghai, the singer had been nothing more than a grievance, demanding food and rest and treatment that didn’t come in the wilderness. Even a child was ten times more useful than him. He sighed, thinking about Wind. The kid certainly proved his worth, at least enough to go on this adventure, which wasn’t set to be that dangerous. Infiltrate, grab the stones, and get out, all without the people of Pankot noticing a thing. No, the thing that really worried him was telling Wind about the death of his friend.

Teba’s death was still a fresh sore in his heart, and it would take some nursing to move on. The way the rito looked at him in his final moments, the way he wasn’t afraid of death, the way he greeted the darkness with a smile of pure satisfaction. It didn’t help that he and Wind became good friends in a matter of minutes. Teba always had a thing with kids, an easy to see fact through the amount of affection he used when talking about his own son. 

At least, used to use.

As Wild stood there, pondering the adventure he was on and the burden he had picked up and how he would tell his bodyguard about the death of a close friend, a boy was stumbling past the rocks into the village. Every step he took was a limp, and his eyes were widened with fear. Wild was able to tell someone was coming almost as soon as the boy stepped under the makeshift roof. His chest was heaving, long shuddering breaths barely escaping his small lungs. The archaeologist turned, thrusting his arms out just in time for the boy to collapse into them. He turned him around, biting his lip as he scanned the boy for injuries.

He had already seen the bloody open lashes on his back, bits of dark flesh catching on the roughness of his hands. The boy was thin, much too thin, anorexic enough it was a wonder he wasn’t dead. In his hand he clutched a small piece of tapestry fabric, frayed edges catching with little bits of string. Wild took it, slowly standing with the boy in a bridal carry. “Sankara...Sankara…” he panted, shaking uncontrollably. “Raji?! Raji!!” A woman cried behind them. Wild turned, handing the boy to a bawling woman who wrapped her arms around her son in a deathly grip. 

As he watched the boy leave, Wild slowly began to unfold the fabric, looking down and squinting in the torch light. It was a depiction of a red horse headed god, sitting cross legged on the floor opposite a human. Everything within him stopped. Stopping breathing, stopped moving, stopped pumping, stopped working, for his eyes needed all the energy to digest what he was seeing. Wild held the scrap closer to the flickering torchlight. “Sankara…” He whispered.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was extremely difficult to navigate through the trees in the dark. He had just so happened to be searching for a drink of water and totally not going back to the shrine to look for rare trinkets(what can he say? Old habits die hard) when Paya passed him, followed by an entourage of women. In one woman’s hands was the half dead body of a boy, about two years older than him. Trying to blend into the background didn’t work, as the elder saw him immediately and snapped her fingers for him to follow. He did so without reluctance however. The kid needed help, and Wind didn’t step down from helping someone.

They sent him off to grab some torches, which he did, leaping up and snatching them from their sconces. With the firelight providing visibility throughout the mud house, Wind was able to get a good look at the boy’s injuries, which were some he wished he had never seen. His body was paper thin, a few ribs jutting out of the skin and hanging exposed for the world. He was almost nothing, eyes betraying no emotion except the need to survive. Human’s survival instincts were truly the best Mother Nature has ever seen such yet. 

Wind thought the boy’s front side was bad enough. Then he saw the back.

His spine looked like it was trying to escape his body, but the worse part had to be the deep juicing gashes on his back. Whip lashes. They were freely flowing blood, and stank richly of dirt and infection. Wind gagged, and slowly started backing away. “නවතින්න!” Paya barked, snapping her fingers. “We need you here, to take answers to Doctor Jones.” He stopped, then, at her orders, sat down near the boy’s pillow, watching his chest heave with jagged, shuddering breaths. Paya pushed the women out of the way, kneeling down and shoving her face in the boy’s. “ඔබ අපට පැවසිය යුතුයි, ඔබ පැමිණියේ කොහෙන්ද? එය මාළිගාවද? අනිත් ළමයි ඉන්නවද?” Her tone was commanding and desperate, grasping at any hope she could find.

“ඔව් ... ඔව් ඔවුන් සියල්ලන්ටම …” He gasped. And while Wind could not understand his language, the elder’s head snapped unto his, until they were barely a nosewidth apart. She grabbed the back of his hat and pulling him even closer. Wind’s eyes widened, heart beating rapidly in his chest. Paya’s face was a crazed frenzy, a mixture of happiness at the boy’s return, and desperation to get more than him back. “You go up there. Find him. Tell him Raji came from the palace, and that the other children are still there. You leave tomorrow.” As soon as she relaxed her grip, Wind was outside, darting off into the night.

It didn’t take much to find Wild. Asking around worked, as they all pointed to the top of a hill overlooking the village. Finding the path to get there wasted precious minutes, but it wasn’t too long, as torches lit the first few yards into the woods. He ran as fast as he could, stumbling over rocks and around trees, trying to navigate in the darkness. The trek was treacherously steep, and roots laid their thick black bodies over the path as if they were cats trying to stop him from doing paperwork.

He had worked part time at a cat clinic once. The thought of the yowling still sent shudders down his spine.

By the time he had gotten to the top of the hill, he was completely winded. The village was small now, small enough to be a child’s play toy. The firelight flickered over the cracked walls, and tendrils of smoke curled into the air. He found Wild staring down at a small scrap of something, balancing on his toes. Wind stopped, resting his hands on his knees while Wild patiently waited for him to finish. “Little boy escape from the...evil...palace.” He panted. “Many other children...still there. What we do Doctor Jones?” Wild stood, ruffling the hat on Wind’s head. At this point, he was too pooped to care. The archaeologist stared down at the scrap he held in his hands.

“What you think?” Wind asked. He wanted to know how they would help. Because even though he only had known Wild for half a month, he knew well enough that he was too kind and trusting for his own good. Hadn’t he ever heard the saying don’t trust anyone? Even Warriors could be a spy, a plant led by Mr. Coat. Though it was extremely unlikely, even in Wind’s suspicious mind. Wild took a step left, turning away from the village. “I think someone believes that the good luck rock of this village,” he explained. “Is one of the lost Sankara stones.”

Wind furrowed his brow. He didn’t know everything about history, unlike some people. “What is Sankara?” He asked, voice catching on the _ r _ and forming it into a _ w _. His English, though quite good after living in the tourist district of Shanghai, still needed some work. He thought of things in Chinese, and translating it out into the world as the seemingly universal language could be a bitch.

Then Wild smiled. It took Wind aback as he tried to process what he was seeing. It wasn’t a smile of happiness, or satisfaction, or laughter. No. That smile spoke of a new adventure, one that brought a sparkle to the archaeologist’s azure blue eyes. Wind had only seen it once before, and that was when they discovered the lost temple of Nurhachi. 

“Fortune and glory, kid.” Wild laughed. “Fortune and glory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all for now. I really pushed myself on this one, saying “a few more words! Make it better!” To the point I vowed to surpass 4.5 k words on this one. And I did! Woo! I hope the chapters enjoyable, because we’re starting to get to the real stuff soon. And yes, I did add some of my own scenes(the transition from the square to the house, and Wind with the boy, etc) to fill in gaps, because you can’t gap in a story. Anyway, hope you like it! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever story posted, so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I worked hard on this, as I was so inspired by the movie. There are a few different things from the movies, like scene additions and others, but it’s mostly the same. Constructive criticism is my favorite flavor of buffalo wings just so you know, and if you want to talk I’m on discord under the same name but without the 12(lol but plz I’m rly lonely XD). Anyway yeah, thanks so much for reading!


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